


A Scene of No Importance - (And More)

by goldnsyren



Series: A Romance of No Importance [1]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Holidays, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, requests are open
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27886018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldnsyren/pseuds/goldnsyren
Summary: A series of requested drabbles and oneshots tying into "A Woman of No Importance". Can be considered canon or not.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Original Female Character(s)
Series: A Romance of No Importance [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041867
Comments: 1
Kudos: 48





	A Scene of No Importance - (And More)

_**➻ Summary:** Rose lets slips what she really thinks; Thomas Shelby’s too beautiful to be ignored …_

_**➻ Rating/Warnings:** T; 1920s impropriety, Innuendo, Open-ending… (Throwbacks to chapter 7 of AWoNI) _

_**➻ A/N:** This was actually so fun to write because I get to write the angst and touch starved couple I want without having to worry about overall story pacing so like god-bless you nony, hope this is what you wanted..._

* * *

The two whiskeys in his stomach did nothing to dull his ever observant eyes.

Her hair was down, was the first thing he truly noticed as she entered the snug. The usual braid having become messy during one of the many dances of the night, it wasn’t long before she’d abandoned it all together to let the collar length curls hang loose. 

Rose Pryor, as of tonight 27 years old, seemed the only one brave enough to enter the self imposed solitude of the clearly agitated man. “Mind some company?” She’d brazenly asked as she already began closing the door behind her. 

Yes.

“No.” Thomas shook his head, lifting his hand from where it had been pinching the bridge of his nose to gesture flippantly at the chair across from him. He released a breath, forcing the tension from his shoulders as the ruckus of the party died down once more.

Rose took a seat, bracing her elbow on the smooth wood of the table between them to hold up her chin. Her shoulders dropped in an uncharacteristic slouch, a lock of curl dropping from her temple to rest beside her glassy eye. 

“Having fun?” He couldn’t help but comment on her bowed state, lingering somewhere between relaxation and exhaustion. A small shine of sweat gently licked her skin, the past few hours of drinking and dancing certainly taking it’s own toll on her. He hadn’t missed the way she laughed as one of the regulars clumsily swept her around the pub in some bastardization of the Charleston when he’d first come in.

“More than appropriate.” She hummed, looking suspiciously at the glass that seemed to be nearing empty for the first time all night. Strange how she seemed to take sip after sip without making any progress just earlier. The fuzziness in her head could no longer be attributed to the dancing. Her green eyes cut to him sharply, eyeing his own glass with curiosity. “What have you been up to - in here - all alone?” 

Thomas’s fingers traced the rim of his own half filled glass as he slouched on the bench. He thoughtlessly tapped the glass, deciding just how much of the evening to censor for her.

“Long day.” He settled on. He glanced at the frosted windows of the private room, the shadowy figures still clearly enjoying the party despite their absence. His brothers maybe more than anyone as he heard John and Arthur croak a chanting cheer of verse to accompany the piano playing. “Seems to be longer still.” He mumbled under his breath. He quickly turned his attention back to the birthday girl in question, silently surprised to see the intensity of her gaze directed at him. “I take it you’re hiding from another dance.” 

The pub in question would be lively and busy any payday night, but it was with her coinciding birthday that they had an extra reason to drop a few more coins and have a bit more fun. At some point when they had finally wrestled her away from the bar the piano had been opened and a few tables cleared. For the first time in a long time, it was as loud and merry as it’d been before the war. Unluckily, Rose was just one of a few women who had the misfortune of being in the bar when the sudden urge to dance had taken over the drunken crowd. It seemed even she had had her fill.

At least that’s what Thomas had assumed. His eyes once more strayed to the loose hair that hung so alluring in her face. 

“No, just wanted to… see you.” She admitted, green eyes flickering over him quickly. 

He raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Pondering just what would make her leave her own party to speak to him.

He expected to be chided for the lackluster ‘Happy Birthday’ he’d given before retreating to the quiet seclusion of the snug. Even more likely, to be scolded for the newly opened wounds on his knuckles and the bruise freshly formed under his jaw in the late hour. What he didn’t expect was for her eyes to soften in wonder, staring into him like he imagined one would all the riches of the world.

Open and inviting, her lips twitched in silent amusement as she settled on a thought that perhaps he wasn’t meant to hear.

“You have the most extraordinary eyes.”

Her tone awed and breathy as she shamelessly stared back with her own hooded gaze. The faint flush of her drunken cheeks paired well with the small, almost coy, smile that stretched over her lips. 

It wasn’t just relaxed.

It was down right debauched. 

Thomas cleared his throat in an attempt to rid the heavy weight in his chest, chin tipping to his chest as he attempted to ground himself. Such simple words having no right to be so syruped in desire. He pulled out a cigarette, suddenly in desperate need to avert his gaze from hers. 

“You’re drunk.” He mumbled around the roll. There was no other explanation for it. 

Shamelessly, Rose nodded vigorously. “Oh very much so,” she giggled lowly. Her voice surprisingly husky as she hummed her agreement. 

Thomas’ cheek twitched as he bit back a smile. His dark mood had quickly lifted, the ache in his jaw completely gone as it tightened. “Sure that’s a good idea?” He challenged. He braced his own elbow on the tabletop to match her posture, all pretense of propriety lifted in their little room. 

The smile on her lips blossomed, all teeth and cheeks as her head tilted to the side. “Why wouldn’t it be?” 

Thomas lifted his glass of whiskey taking a small sip as his brows jumped in subtle surprise. Touche. She must have been the only woman in the city besides Ada and Polly to feel so untouchable as to leave herself so vulnerable in the late hour.

They both knew why.

But that wasn’t something either of them talked about. 

Thomas gave a sigh of understanding, briefly wondering if he’d grow to rue this new confidence of hers.

A beat of comfortable silence passed between them, Thomas watching the smoke lift from his cigarette as he listened to the sound of the drunken men outside. 

It was as he placed the cigarette back in his mouth that she caught him off guard once more.

A delicate hum vibrated her throat, drawing his eyes back to hers. “You must have driven Polly up a wall. Those baby blue eyes, those freckles -” Her eyes rabidly darted around his face as if trying to count every faint speck. “-those lips.” she finished with a whisper, eyes settling on the cigarette in his mouth.

Thomas inhaled a sharp drag of the cigarette, plucking it from his mouth as he slowly exhaled. A heat was building in his cheeks, his fingers twitching in the need to… to do something…

Longing pooled quickly in his gut and the room that usually brought him such solace now unsettled him. “Alright, Rosie.” came the familiar drawl. “I think that’s enough from you tonight.”

 _For_ you. _Enough for you_ , he meant.

The flustered Shelby cleared his throat, trying to regain control as he stood. He’d blame the lack of sleep and possible concussion later. He buttoned his coat, hopping the nimble movement would help ease the sudden tension in his fingertips as they itched for action. The crawling itch to brush the stray locked from her face. The need to hook them into her blond curls and pull her closer. The idea, that if he gave her his full attention that she’d stop looking at him with those almost hungry eyes. 

When had the roles reversed?

He dare not look at her, studying the nearly empty glass of scotch she’d been cradling so carefully through the night. His hand offered to her, she seemed to hesitate only a moment before sliding the full palm of her hand into his. Thomas spared her an almost chastising look, simultaneously charmed and annoyed by that tipsy smile carved on her face. The firm, lingering caress yet another embolden move to rile him.

He pulled her up, unsurprised by the pliant way she leaned into him before steadying herself. He gestured to the door, pulling her along in hopes of getting her home and tucked away before she continued this dangerous game. Just how many glasses had she had before he arrived?

In two short strides his hand was on the door handle, their small bubble of privacy about to open wide once more. Far too embolden by the four glasses of whiskey, she was unable to help herself from getting once more teasing quip in before he put on his mask of indifference. 

She ignored the lull of the comfortable silence thickening with rising tension as she leaned against him. “Are you taking me to bed, Mr. Shelby?” She sleepily whispered against his neck.

The innuendo dripped sinfully from the simple question. Thomas felt a shiver run up his spine, instinctual turning to bring her closer. He tightened his grip on the door handle, unable to bring himself to open it. He’d suddenly found himself in the middle of a dangerous game, and being the bastard he was, he couldn’t help but imagine all the ways to quickly change it to his favor.

His eyes grew dark with desire at such simple words and the lovely, lecherous picture it placed in his head. The hand that clutched hers tightening dare he pull her flush to him like he so very much wanted to. The lips she so admired came closer, brushing her ear as he forced his body to pull back from all the things he suddenly wanted to do. By god he could almost taste the salt of sweat that lingered on her neck. The familiar scent of lavender still faintly clinging beneath it.

A sharp inhale as he tried to regain focus. “Don’t tempt me.” was nearly growled in her ear.

The shiver that shook her may have been subtle, but her gasp was audible. Pulling away he looked down at her with equal surprise, heart pounding as he wondered briefly if he had finally crossed that line they seemed precariously tip toe. 

Green met blue and an equal measure of shock lit both their faces. Rose’s own grip seemed to tighten back, the drunk flush of her cheeks darkening with something far more sinful. 

_Well, fuck…_

“Alright, Rosie.”


End file.
